zeldathemes
Hey, Assbutt!

Abbie Ridings. 17. Bisexual. British. From a city called Manchester. Percy Jackson, Danisnotonfire, Amazingphil and Supernatural ruined my life. I love Harry Potter, Doctor Who, Pokemon, E4 programs, british comedy, some reality TV programs and cartoons such as South Park. Linkin Park, MCR, FOB and Green Day are constantly singing in my head.
I also RP with a few OC's from different fandoms so drop an ask if you want to rp with me.
fuckyeahsambobby:


sam: (shyly) I LUV U BOBBY!!!! 
bobby: i kno dat u idjit!
sam: xoxo

;P

fuckyeahsambobby:

sam: (shyly) I LUV U BOBBY!!!! 

bobby: i kno dat u idjit!

sam: xoxo

;P

bakerstreetviolin:

Okay, I know it’s odd, but this is a manip done as inspiration from a RP between these two. Everyone needs a friend. ;) 

bakerstreetviolin:

Okay, I know it’s odd, but this is a manip done as inspiration from a RP between these two. Everyone needs a friend. ;) 

interruptingpanda:

the-impalas-fallen-angel:

thorki-hiddlesworth:

bytheirownsuggestionsfell:

if you’re ever feeling down just remember that sam winchester

  • lost his mother 
  • lost his fiancee
  • lost his father
  • lost his brother
  • lost his life
  • lost his sanity
  • lost his brother again
  • lost his angel
  • lost his faith

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And the most tragic one

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DID THE SUPERNATURAL FANDOM JUST MAKE SOMETHING REALLY SAD REALLY FUNNY

OMFG

We like to laugh while we cry.

so i was in the bus with this granny by my side when we spotted two girls kissing by the bus stop. the granny turned to me and said “these girls are so pretty. at their age i was pretty ugly. well, maybe that’s why i had to marry a man” i almost died omg

cumberknitterfiles:

fieldbears:

pocketpadfoot:

Imagine James Potter getting wasted and making a bet with Sirius that he can totally transform into his Animagus shape no biggie - and it goes fine but then he’s too drunk to change back and Muggles get confronted with this really drunk deer roaming the streets pursued by a man who can’t stop laughing

or

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I reblogged this but I need to reblog it again because of that fucking gif

cumberknitterfiles:

fieldbears:

pocketpadfoot:

Imagine James Potter getting wasted and making a bet with Sirius that he can totally transform into his Animagus shape no biggie - and it goes fine but then he’s too drunk to change back and Muggles get confronted with this really drunk deer roaming the streets pursued by a man who can’t stop laughing

or

image

I reblogged this but I need to reblog it again because of that fucking gif

Reblog this if you’re still a virgin.

nightmare-comet:

ask-cloud-skipper:

nerdys-art-crap:

greasergirlsknowbetter:

thesmallestbot:

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I want to see how many people are proud of it.image

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We’re like unicorns

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image

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Mod: Yeah…image

Yep. -shrugs- Don’t really see the problem.

yes i’m still a Virgin :(

Megstiel prompt: cas finds out meg is dead

Anonymous

constellationsammy:

Megstiel + Cas Finding Out

A/N: Anon, why…

When he first found out that the Winchester’s hadn’t even gone back to get Meg’s body, Castiel was ticked off for days. He didn’t talk to them although Sam tried to reach him, tried to explain… but what was there to say? Demons weren’t worth anything to them. To be truthful, they weren’t worth much to Castiel, but Meg was different from the moment he kissed her, tasted her pain, saw his own grace light up every twisted arch and hidden place inside the smoke of her soul. She was a storm cloud, devastating and beautiful, full of lightning whenever they were together, whenever they touched.

Castiel is intent on gathering things that remind him of Meg: violets and dandelions, blue sea glass that fits in the palm of his hand. He rips out excerpts from books that remind him of her or something she’s said (he also writes down all of the references she made to figure them out and write down his reaction to them). He describes on random bits of paper what the sky looks like every so often when it reminds him of the ones they used to walk under while she took care of him at the asylum: cold blue sheets with wind wrinkled clouds and dark gray backdrops evaporating on a humid spring day. He collects pizza menus, porn with a baby sitter and a pizza man, purchases a movie called “It’s A Wonderful Life” and watches it in the bunker with Sam and Dean.

They don’t talk throughout the whole thing, which is a first,  but Castiel wouldn’t have paid them any mind. He’s focused on Clarence, the angel, who showed Jimmy Stewart that life is worth living. At the end of the movie, he has his head in his hands because he finally understands that reference. He feels empty as though his grace has been stolen from him a second time.

For a month, he keeps with him a large box he can carry under his arm that slowly fills with these mementos until there’s no more room and no more tears left to shed. Because there is no body, there is no grave. Castiel makes one.

He walks with purpose, his coats off and dress shirt sleeves rolled up, into the field next to the bunker. The sun is burning in the afternoon casting orange and yellow threaded by white seemingly pulling him along. Each step takes him further into the tall grass tickling his calves, further upward toward a hill with a tree on top of it overlooking a valley and towns nestled into the green. They’re unaware of his presence, unaware that his knees hit the dirt or that Castiel feels as though his action causes a physical tremor that shakes the earth. He digs into the dirt at the base of the tree.

Rocks scrape his hands the deeper he goes. The earth is cold on his skin. He doesn’t like just how cold it gets because she died on a cold street and her body was taken away to rest on a cold slab as a Jane Doe in some forensic lab. Tears blur his vision the more he digs, the more he tries to keep himself together because he can’t think about how he isn’t even able to find her without his power, without his wings that she used to adore and say they reminded her of clouds even if they weren’t white. By the time the sun touches the top of a hill far off and indigo shades the sky above, Castiel has made a hole deep and wide enough for a rectangular box heavy with sentiment.

His arms are smeared with cool, brown dirt as are his cheeks and neck and forehead and his sweat soaked shirt. Then there’s silence for a while. Castiel stares at the box. It stares back.

"You always…" he glances around self-consciously. Castiel feels ridiculous talking to an inanimate object though he figures it wouldn’t be much different from talking to a dead body. It’s not like they could hear anyone who mourned them. He turns back to the ground. "You hated poetry. Told me to put up or shut up. You’d… you’d probably hate what I put in this box. I filled it. With poetry." 

And sky and references Castiel understands and poems and porn and “It’s A Wonderful Life” and glass and flowers he used to put into her hair. 

Castiel ducks his head. He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. Her voice is in his ear groaning over the theatrics. Well, isn’t that somethin’. I get an actual grave and a show, nice goin’, Clarence. C’mon, save the waterworks for someone who needs it. It almost makes him smile. Tears keep dripping down his face and into his lap.

"I’m sorry. I’m… I should have gone back. We should have… been more careful. After all you did…"

Her voice disappears.

Castiel wants to. 

It’s darker on the hill top. Only a little bit of light clings to the grass around him, to the tree and to the makeshift grave. He feels silly crying over a body-less plot of ground, over pictures and poems and memories he tried very hard to remember in vivid detail so if by chance she did come by, she could read it and know that he learned all of her pop culture references or remembered the promises he made or their late nights talking about the universe and their experiences and-

He shoves dirt over the box. He packs it down. The wind kisses him gently seemingly all over his temple then it combs through his hair like slender fingers. For a moment, he imagines Meg tilting his head up and his hand on her waist and those brown, twinkling eyes staring down at him with a gentle look in her eyes.

See you soon, Clarence.

Then she’s gone and Castiel is left with his hand in the empty air.  

Guess who’s a brunette again :)

Guess who’s a brunette again :)

envycamacho:

do you ever just get so zoned into your music that you forget that you’re staring at someone’s dick or that you’re walking in a crowded hallway or that life is real